


Guess What?

by Palebluedot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (because of the ending), Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Married Couple, dean winchester is an actual puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:16:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palebluedot/pseuds/Palebluedot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is upset with Dean, so he does his very best to make things right again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guess What?

**Author's Note:**

> I started thinking about what a giant puppy Dean would be if Cas was mad at him and then this happened.

The covers rise, the mattress dips, the covers settle, and Castiel immediately turns his back to the source of the disturbance. He feels an uncertain hand hover above his shoulder, then think better of it and fall uselessly into its owner’s lap. A wavering sort of trepidation radiates from the man behind him, and Castiel can’t tell if he’d rather maintain this silence or be given the chance to shut down any ill-advised attempts at reconciliation.

Then, abruptly, the choice is no longer his.

"Cas, I’m sorry." Castiel loftily refuses to acknowledge this, letting the apology wither away with his neglect. But its offerer has never been one for knowing when to shut up, and tries again. "Babe, I know you’re pissed, but just talk to me." Dean’s voice is oddly strained. "Please."

Castiel has his back obstinately turned to him, but he can _feel_ the puppy eyes Dean is shooting him through the dark. Unfortunately, even indirectly, long-term exposure is infuriatingly potent. Inwardly chiding himself for his weakness, he sighs.

"You could have gotten yourself killed," he states, flat and unforgiving.

"…I know. It was stupid. _I_ was stupid. I’ll be more careful, sweetheart, I promise.”

Castiel mentally records this latest term of endearment. It brings the total to three different pet names of exponentially increasing degrees of sappiness under the span of a minute. At least Dean realizes the severity of his situation, he thinks to himself, huffing angrily for no tangible reason.

He fully intends to silent-treatment Dean’s ass into the ground for at least the rest of the night, but his vocal cords, traitors that they are, throw a wrench of sorts into that plan. “You are incredibly selfish, Dean Winchester,” Castiel all but whispers. “You just charge out there, ready to sacrifice yourself, without paying a second thought to the people you’ll leave behind if…if something should go wrong.”

"You’re right. I’ll try to be more considerate of your feelings next time, okay?" Dean does sound as if he’s sincerely yearning for a peaceful resolution, but Castiel just can’t do that yet.

"I don’t believe you," he mutters. "You say that every time."

Dean doesn’t seem to have a response to this, which makes Castiel feel smug and furious and guilty all at once. He’s still reeling from having to watch Dean jump out unprepared at a demon and nearly get his throat ripped out, saved only by pure dumb luck. Half of him only wants to hold him and sob with relief that he’s okay, he’s alive, he’s safe here with him, but the rest of him is filled with a white-hot rage at this reckless, reckless man who never seems to care just how lost his angel would be without him.

So he shoves down his own need for contact and edges away from the hunter, nearly falling off the bed in his determination to put space between them. It hurts Dean more than anything when Castiel is distant, and he takes petty satisfaction at the power this gives him tonight.

Dean is quiet for a long time. When he does speak, it’s thoughtful, careful, ready to backtrack in an instant in case he says something that digs him in even deeper, and Castiel grits his teeth in preparation for that very event.

"I’ve got a lot of stuff to work on. I get that. Sometimes I’m so busy thinkin’ about what the job needs from me that I forget about you, and I am so, so sorry. And I’ll do better next time. I will." Dean pauses. He always pauses like that when he’s about to say something incredibly stupid, Castiel notes, bracing himself. "But, hey…in the meantime…guess what."

Castiel curses in Enochian. He had hoped it wouldn’t be _that_ stupid. “Dean, I’m mad at you. What exactly do you hope to accomplish with an idiotic guessing game?”

Dean can’t help but smile a little. When Cas gets like this, it usually means he’s on the verge of softening. “I know you’re mad. I would be, too. But still…guess what.”

Castiel takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly through his nose, and begrudgingly decides to play along, if only to shut him up. “What is it, Dean?”

"…I love you, Cas."

There’s another long silence, and it balances on the head of a pin and leaves a question hanging in the air. Castiel tries not to answer it, he really does, but he needs this to be over just as much as Dean does, and he just _gives up_.

"…I love you, too, you insufferable - " He never gets the chance to finish before Dean’s all over him, pressed close in a warm line into his back, and draping an arm over his waist. Castiel waits for what he feels is a dignified amount of time, then takes hold of the hand resting on his stomach, gently twisting Dean’s wedding band one way, then the other. "So don’t you ever scare me like that again."

"I won’t." Dean nuzzles at his neck, ridiculously, endearingly grateful and relieved to have been granted the permission to be this intimate with his husband again. "I don’t plan on goin’ anywhere without knowing you’re right there with me."

Castiel hums skeptically in response, but lets himself melt into the hunter’s chest. “Go to sleep,” he actually smiles when Dean leans down and kisses his cheek.

Dean nods drowsily, tangling his legs with Castiel’s, pulling him closer, and murmuring “‘Night, Cas.” With that, he’s out, exhausted from their spat more than the hunt.

Castiel uneasily closes his eyes. He knows that another day, not too far down the road, they’ll wind up here again. He knows Dean will never stop taking these terrible risks, that the vows made tonight were grounded in good intentions, not reality.

But the vows they made to each other three years ago are forever, and as long as his husband continues to make it home, he’ll be coming back for him.

He just prays that they’ll never run out of chances to have this fight, that it will never be too late to paint themselves into an impossible world where this constant, gnawing, aching fear in his heart doesn’t exist. Castiel can live with the fear. But he doesn’t think he could survive if there was ever no one to ignore and then forgive waiting patiently for him on the other side of the bed.

Cas rolls over to rest his head against Dean’s chest, letting the strong, steady heartbeat he feels on his cheek drown out these thoughts of finding only silence there, and a protective arm tightens around his waist.

They do love each other, come what may. And, somehow, that’s enough.

"Goodnight, Dean."


End file.
